Every Wolf's Bane
by blade-of-the-shadows
Summary: Two men, both believing they are damaged beyond repair, meet through seemingly unlikely circumstances. Both want nothing more than a family, though one is a lot more obvious about it, but they can't help but believe that they aren't worthy. Through trail and error, together Harry and Fenrir learn that at some point their pasts will stop chasing them and peace can be found.
1. Damages

"Harry, Harry, Harry." Red eyes glowed with mirth and giddy insanity. "How could you fall so easily for my trap? I had so _much_ more faith in you. But…you're a Gryffindor for a reason, I suppose. Tell me, how did it feel when you saw your friends and…_family _killed by your own magic?"

A nearly inhuman snarl echoed throughout the small, dank room and chains rattled. Green eyes narrowed with anger, but if one looked closely, they would notice the pain glazing into an almost insane gleam. Not unlike the red ones belonging to the one and only Lord Voldemort. Harry glared up darkly at the pale man, staying silent if just to provoke to the Dark Lord. Voldemort tsked at him.

"Harry, I have lived much longer than you puny, worthless life—that will be ending soon, just wait—so do not believe your silly little games will work on me. I am a patient man; I can outwait you. And I will." Voldemort leaned towards Harry, a horrid smile curling his thin, bloodless lips. "I want to see you break. I want to see the strong Savior of Wizard Britain break and crumble into helpless tears. I want to hear you scream. I want to see you claw your own skin with madness. And then…only then…will I gift myself with the one thing I have always wanted. Your death."

With a cackling laugh, Lord Voldemort straightened and swept from the room. Only when the door slammed shut solidly and the click of the lock sliding in place ringed into the room did Harry slump forward.

His vision blurred with tears and his body ached with sadness. He could remember it vividly, watching his friends perish because of him. Had he only _listened_. Didn't he learn from his fifth year? Obviously not, because had he learned—had he bared through those lessons with Snape—then his friends and surrogate family would be alive. There was only very little solace he could find, and that was with the knowledge that the Twins and Remus were still alive. Harry didn't know if Fate was being cruel or kind to him. He would never see them again; he was due to sink into his own despair and only when he did so would he be mercifully killed.

How would Voldemort do it? Harry was sure the crazy bastard planned to torture him, but how? His cold laugh echoed in the dark room. Starvation and isolation wouldn't work; he spent majority of his life like that. If anything, that would just make him more comfortable; something familiar within this horror. Hell, Harry was beginning to believe he deserved whatever Voldemort threw at him. He failed; his friends, his family, the world. Voldemort won. Harry was surrounded by enemies, no mercy found anywhere. No one would risk Voldemort's wrath by spiriting him out of there. No, he would die and Voldemort would thrive and Britain would be under Voldemort's thumb.

The door suddenly slammed open and Harry jerked into an upward position. He couldn't see much as they broke his glasses, but he could make out a blurry shape stumbling towards him only to fall on the ground. Two dark blobs surrounded by the light from outside chuckled and slammed the door. Harry slowly looked back at the other blob, still on the floor. He could vaguely make out a slight rise and fall of the blob's back, indicating that whoever it was, was at least breathing. The metallic stench of blood invaded his nose and he frowned.

"Hello? Are you okay over there?"

The blob shifted and Harry got the feeling of someone staring at him. "I'll be fine." The voice emitting from the blob was somehow smooth and gravelly at the same time. It made Harry shiver. "You, on the other hand, seem to be in shock. I can smell your blood."

Harry grinned wryly. "And I can smell yours."

A snort. "I'll heal. I'm not human. You are." The blob shifted closer to him. "Show me where you're hurt. It's not much, but I can at least close the wounds."

Knowing that he was more than likely going to lose this argument, he held out his chained wrists, arms straining from holding up the heavily iron. "You can't reach them; the wounds are under the chains."

"Are the chains silver?"

"No." Harry tilted his head to the side. Was this man a werewolf, or a vampire? He did say that he wasn't human.

"Then I can reach." The blob-man wriggled into a sitting position and grabbed Harry's arms in both hands.

Werewolf then, Harry concluded. The man's hands felt similar to Remus'; like the smooth texture of a dog's paws, but softer. The werewolf's hands completely incased Harry's arms and lifted them up. Curious as to what the man was going to do, Harry watched as best as he could as his hands were pulled towards what he would assume was the man's face. Then he jerked when his chain length ended and his arms jarred when the man accidentally kept pulling. The man released a growled curse and shifted forward.

Harry's eyes widened and he released a gasp when he felt something wet and warm touch his inner wrist. The man's tongue, he realized. Yes, he'd forgotten; werewolf's saliva when they were not in their wolf form acted as a healing agent without the prior influx of the virus. The tongue carefully slid in between the small space of his wrist and the chains, gently lapping at the raw skin chafed by the metal. He stayed silent as the werewolf licked his wounds, though his cheeks were burning hot.

When he was done, the werewolf released Harry's wrist and sat back. "Are you wounded anywhere else?"

Around his ankles, yes, were his skin was also chafed, but he did not want the werewolf's tongue on his skin again. Not with the strange reactions he was having. So he shook his head with a quiet 'no', holding his hands to his chest. He knew that the werewolf knew he was lying, but he didn't care. So long as the werewolf didn't press the issue. Which he didn't.

With a grunt, the werewolf flopped back down on the hard ground. "So, you're the infamous Harry Potter, eh?"

Harry stiffened. "Yeah, what's it to you?"

"Nothin'. I just don't see what the hell Voldemort's problem is. I mean, I can practically smell your mum's titty milk on you. Just what the hell would a little pup like you do to him?"

"Why don't you go ask all the people who have such a strong belief in me because I sure as hell don't know."

The werewolf snorted. "How old are you anyway?"

"…I just turned seventeen."

Another snort. "If you were a werewolf, then you'd only just be going through puberty. We werewolves mature slower than humans, which is why it's better to bite a kid during the full moon when we get the urge. If one of us bit an adult, then they would more than likely die because of the conflicting hormones in their body." The werewolf snarled. "I fucking hate bastards who bite adults just for the fun of it."

Harry's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, when you get the urge?"

The werewolf shifted and Harry once again felt eyes on him. "The werewolf race is a dying one, all because of those damned wizards you're supposed to be saving. We're always on the run, so it's hard on the pregnant wolves and even harder on our young. Death rates are higher than birth rates now and days. The 'virus' as you call it in our saliva is a survival mechanism only triggered when we're endangered. During the full moon sometimes we get this urge, king of like this painful tingling in our teeth, that pretty much tells us we need to repopulate and the only way to do that is either with successful mating or by biting someone."

"Wow…I—I never knew that…my uncle—he's a werewolf, but I—."

"Calm down, would you? It's fine. Practically no wizard knows this. I'm only telling you this because…well, I actually don't know." A growl. "I'm acting real outta character right now. I have never been this…docile in my life. I fucking hate Voldemort. Wish I could just rip his throat out and call it a day but that bastard's so heavily guarded…"

An abrupt laugh slipped from Harry's throat. "He's really paranoid, huh?"

"Yeah. If I had some way to contact my pack…at least Lance…then we could probably overpower the Death Eaters and get to old Voldie but this place has so many wards on it, it's near impossible to get anything in or out."

"Don't werewolves in packs have that mind thingy?"

A humorless laugh. "Mind thingy…yeah, but it's all about proximity."

"Oh. Sucks, huh?"

"Yeah." A brief silence filled the room. "So, uh…those friends of yours…you were really close, then?"

Harry scowled. "What do you care?"

The werewolf growled. "Hey, I might be a cold-blooded bastard, but I do value relationships, especially with those you consider closest to you, so don't be a fucking cunt about my question."

"Sorry." Harry closed his eyes, not that it made a difference. "In truth…I don't know. If you asked me five years ago it would've been a definite yes. But as of the late…they've been distant. Ron…he was always kind of jealous of me. I didn't understand it; I mean, how could he not see that I hated all that attention? But I ignored it because he was my friend. I always accepted his apologies. And Hermione…she only just started dating Ron and so she just followed him in whatever he did. For someone so smart, she was really stupid. I guess she was in love but…I suppose I can't understand that because I've never been in love myself. Ginny didn't count; she was only after my money. Cho doesn't count either because I was only her rebound after Cedric died. It wasn't much of a relationship either; we kind of just kissed and left it at that."

He jerked in surprise when the werewolf began to laugh. "Goddamn. You…your life seems to me to be very interesting, little one."

"Yeah." Harry couldn't help but agree. "Real interesting."

~oOo~

It _burned _so bad. Harry couldn't breathe. Everything was on fire, it felt like. Every single nerve seemed as if someone had pulled them from his body, lit them on fire, and then placed them back in his body. But he bore through it. He didn't scream; he wouldn't give Voldemort that pleasure.

And suddenly the pain ended. Though his body relaxed in relief, random limbs would twitch uncontrollably. He could taste the blood where he bit straight through his lip in order to keep from screaming. When he tried to open his eyes, tears blurred his vision further than his already damaged eyesight. He could feel the blood caking his hands and fingers from where he dug his nails into his palms.

"_Harry…" _The condescending tone sounded like a banshee screeching in his ears. "Just scream. Just a little. Then all the pain will go away. That's all I want to hear. One tiny little screech."

Using the last of his energy, Harry glared up at the blurry figure of Voldemort. "Go fuck yourself, _Tom_."

Then his mind was lost in dark oblivion, even as his body arched up in searing pain.

He dreamed of his friends. Back when they were still naïve, though not too naïve because they knew Voldemort was after Harry. Back when it was a lot easier to smile and laugh and Harry didn't have to question his friends' loyalty. When he actually had a legit crush on Ginny. The dream was so bittersweet. An elixir he could never drink. Ambrosia never to be eaten. At the moment, he wished the Crucio being cast on him would kill him, because then he could go back to those times. But at the same time he wanted to survive. He made a friend out of that werewolf, though he still didn't know the man's name, and he would feel bad if he left the werewolf to fend off Voldemort by himself. He wouldn't tell Harry what Voldemort made him do, but every night he came back to their shared room, wounded and bloody. But every time, he told Harry he was fine and tended to the raven's chafed skin, just as he did that first day. It was a tentative beginning to a friendship at most. Harry welcomed the werewolf's snarky sarcasm, snapping back in a similar fashion to one back at Hogwarts, when he dealt out and took verbal lashings from Malfoy.

Ironically, Harry could view his less than stable relationship with the youngest Malfoy to probably being the normal, constant thing in his life. No matter what Harry did, Malfoy's opinion on him never changed; the comments were no more or less barbed, nor were the glares and dirty tricks. The same could be said about Snape and even Voldemort.

It saddened Harry to know that majority of the people he could trust to never change around him were people who hated him, or in some cases had a strong dislike for him. No matter what, Voldemort would've still chased after him to kill him; Snape _did _keep on giving him hell, possibly more than usual if the case called for it, but still hell; Malfoy did still hex him in the ass whenever they passed in the halls; Malfoy Sr. still sneered at him nastily every time they met. Remind you, all of _them _were Slytherins. Harry's so called friends were all Griffindors. Go figure.

A prodding on his shoulder jolted Harry from his unconscious state, and he peered up rather angrily at the perpetrator. If anything, his vision was worse than usual, but he could still make out the pale blonde hair and bright silver eyes of Draco Malfoy. Had he the energy, he would've sneered at the blonde and asked him why he was there, but he could barely keep his eyes open as is and any other type of movement was bound to be painful. It would seem that Malfoy knew this, because upon seeing Harry's eyes open, the blonde began to speak.

"Listen up, Scarhead, as I do not have much time. I had to sneak to get here in the first place. I have a pain reliever potion here for you and another potion to ease some of your twitches. It is not much but it will help. But in order to take the potions you must eat something and it will be painful. Think you are up for it?"

Harry managed to let out a grunt, albeit a painful one, and fortunately Malfoy took that as a yes as he turned away and came back with a small roll of bread. He pulled apart a small piece and gently parted Harry's lips, stuff the bread in between. Though it hurt insanely, Harry made the effort to chew and swallow the bread, parting his lips for another piece. He couldn't tell if his werewolf friend was there or not, but he did hope the man was also fed, else it would make him feel bad. Draco continued to feed him the small pieces of bread until the roll was gone and then the blonde slowly fed him the potions by the spoonful. As always, the potions were disgusting to taste, making the process take longer as Harry took much effort to swallow the vile liquid.

Once he was done, though, he collapsed in a boneless heap, already feeling the darkness creep back on him. He looked up at Malfoy once more, trying to convey his question through his eyes alone. The teen looked back at him coolly.

"I guess you would like to know why I am doing this?" Malfoy sighed. "I never hated you, Harry. I never wished you dead, nor any of your friends. I admit that I was jealous and a bit angry that you had not accepted my friendship our first year, and instead of talking through it with you, I lashed out instead. But believe me when I say this, being murdered just because of some words written down on a parchment is not something that should happen to anyone. Least of all, you." And with that, the blonde swept from the room, leaving a slightly gaping Harry to contemplate what he said.

The next time Harry woke, sunlight streamed from the small slit in the wall that he considered a window and his werewolf friend was sitting beside him. He shifted and felt familiar eyes on him.

"Fully awake this time, eh?"

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You were delirious with pain before. Your eyes were open but you weren't looking at anything and you were speaking with this weird hissing noise, a lot like Voldemort does."

"Oh. Well, I'm not in pain anymore, so I guess I am fully awake."

A snort. "No shit."

"How long was I out?"

The werewolf was silent, making Harry slightly nervous. Then he spoke. "A week."

Harry's eyes bulged. "A _week? _How the hell was I out for a week?"

"I don't fucking know, Harry. What I do know is that they better move you out tonight because it's the full moon and I'm not taking any chances and eating you on fucking accident."

"What? They haven't been feeding you?"

Another snort. "Course that would be what the fuck you focus on. No, not much. Definitely not enough to satisfy my wolf."

"I don't think you'll eat me."

"Why do you say that?"

Harry only hesitated for a brief second, noting his pseudo friend's agitated state. More than likely that was how the werewolf was on a normal basis, the imprisonment being rather abnormal. "Because I think we're too alike."

The werewolf shifted. "The fuck is that supposed to mean, eh? We're nothing alike."

"Tell me about your past." When Harry didn't receive a verbal response, only instead feeling the prickly feeling of the werewolf glaring at him, he began to speak softly. "You probably know this already, but when I was only one, Voldemort came to my house with intentions of killing me but only managed to kill my parents. By sacrificing herself, my mother triggered some old magic and protected me, which is why the Killing Curse only left a scar instead of a dead body. Everyone in the Wizarding world knew this. But I didn't. Until I turned eleven and went to Hogwarts, I spent my life believing that my mother was a whore and my father was a drunken idiot and that they died in a car crash. Until I began to attend primary school, I believed that my name was actually Freak. For eleven years I lived in a small cupboard under the stairs, only to leave to cook meals, clean, and got to school. I was fed the bare minimum to survive and endured multiple beatings. When I went to Hogwarts, I thought things would get better, and in a way they did." He shrugged and snorted. "Except for the multiple attacks on my life every year."

His werewolf friend was silent for a long time. So long, in fact, that Harry actually began to doze a bit. He knew it was rude, but his body was actually _still_ healing and he couldn't help the drowsiness overcoming him. He jerked awake, however, when the werewolf began to spoke, his rumbly timbre soothing and yet still captivating.

"Majority of born werewolves are born during the night. It's myth'd that Nyx herself blesses werewolves born at night, which supposedly explains how we got our abilities. But there is a small percentage of wolves born during the day; wolves that are ridiculed and taunted by the others because of it. Sun-born wolves tend to be born weak and, if they survive infancy, grow weak, hence the teasing. No one likes Sun-born wolves; they were out-casted, ostracized. People tend to ignore when someone bullies a Sun-born, no matter how bad it gets. No one cares enough."

Harry's eyes lowered. "You're a Sun-born wolf."

"Yeah." A growl entered the werewolf's voice. "I'm a fucking Sun-born. But for me it was worse than the others. My ma died giving birth to me and my fucking shitty ass old man never forgave me for it. He _hated _my guts and being a Sun-born made it increasingly worse. He started drinking and…got violent. But when I only seemed to get stronger instead of weaker, like the other Sun-borns, he just got angrier. At some point, he got his little buddies and they would all beat me. Then one day I just…snapped and killed him. Just like that. He was the fucking Alpha of the pack, so by killing him I automatically became the next Alpha, but I couldn't handle it. I ran away and became a loner, which for an Alpha could either kill them or make them go insane. I fortunately found my pack before then but…the damage is pretty much done…"

"You're strong for that, you know." Harry began quietly. "Not many people could do that."

"You did and you're human so shut the fuck up." The werewolf snorted. "You've been through more shit than someone your age should have. Now quit with this sentimental shit, it's literally making me sick to my stomach." He began to grumble under his breath.

Harry laughed softly. "Okay, Mr. Grumpy pants."

A loud growl ripped throughout the room. "Don't. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again." The sound of shifting. "Don't act like we're friends or something, because we're not. I'm just waiting until they let me outta here so that I can get back to my pack. I suggest you try to survive, pup."

"Yeah thanks." Harry said dryly, a lot more subdued than before. He was actually beginning to consider the werewolf his friend, but should've known better. Not everyone was an easily trusting Gryffindor like he was.

He heard a sigh but ignored it, choosing instead to carefully roll over on his side. The drowsiness still lingered and his muscles twitched occasionally, so Harry wanted to sleep as much as possible in order to get better. He knew that being under a Crucio as long as he was meant that the twitching would never go away, but he hoped that he could possibly reduce it by using his muscles as little as possible, allowing them to heal and regenerate. An uncomfortable silence filled the room, full of awkward tension, and Harry heaved a huge sigh before he fell asleep.

It was many hours later when he woke again, but this time it was not as peaceful. He jerked awake with his heart racing and his muscles tensed and vibrating with adrenalin. For a second he was confused, believing he was still on the run from Voldemort, but when he felt the cold ground searing into his skin, he was shocked into remembering exactly where he was. Slowly he sat up and looked around. He couldn't see much already, only made worse because it was nighttime and therefore dark, but he could usually make out the bulk of the werewolf sharing his cell.

Hearing a noise, Harry shifted forward and peered into the darkness ahead. A low growl reverberated towards him and then a loud crack had him jumping back in surprise. More cracks soon followed, along with grunts and the occasional hiss of pain. Harry was confused as to what was going on, until his eyes landed on the shaft of pale blue light entering from the slit in the wall and his eyes widened. His thoughts went back to the conversation he had with the werewolf earlier. It was the night of the full moon. Harry swallowed, backing away to the farthest wall and watching with wide eyes the cracking noises finally ended.

* * *

reviews pls


	2. Saved

A low, but no less deep, growl reverberated throughout the room, rattling Harry's bones. He bit his lip to keep from making any noise, though he knew it was futile. The werewolf could smell him in there. Smell his fear.

Taking a slightly shaky deep breath, Harry attempted to calm down. He still believed the werewolf wouldn't hurt him. They spent more than a week together in the cell and Merlin be damned if it all meant nothing. Another growl emitted from the dark corner farthest from him, but he didn't react this time. Instead he slowly crept forward on his hands and knees.

"Hey…are you okay…? Ah, that's stupid." Harry bit his lip, quietly talking to himself in his edginess "He can't understand me and even if he can it's not like he can respond—."

Another growl cut him off and Harry stopped crawling forward. He couldn't see much, but could make out a bit of shifting. Suddenly the wolf jumped forward, landing not only in the shaft of moonlight but also directly in front of Harry, and the young raven jerked back with a gasp of surprise. His eyes went wide as he stared at the wolf, not expecting it to be so beautiful. Due to his proximity, closer than the wolf would be in his human form, Harry could see the wolf as clear as if he wore his glasses.

His fur was stormy dark grey, with swirls of black and a lighter shade of grey spiraling from his forehead down to the base of his tail and splitting down each hind leg. Harry would guess that the wolf's eyes in his human form were grey, because at the moment his eyes were bright silver, glowing slightly in the blue light. He was huge, nearly half Harry's height; more so than even Remus, who Harry had seen once during the full moon. Remus had seemed big to Harry then, but the wolf in front of him easily dwarfed his second godfather.

Harry startled when the wolf took a step towards him. Then he froze, heart thumping so loud in his chest that he was sure the wolf could hear him, as grey beast leaned down at sniffed. Its head tilted to the side a bit, and it snorted before leaning down to sniff Harry once again. Harry relaxed a bit, realizing that the wolf wouldn't hurt him, but was simply curious. At least until those bright silver eyes flashed black and the wolf shot out, biting Harry on the juncture where his shoulder and neck met. He let out a yelp, more so from surprise than pain, and stared wide eyed at the wolf's fur that was kind of tickling his nose a bit. Then the pain began.

He didn't struggle, knowing that if he did, the wolf's teeth would move and tear further into his skin, causing him more pain. Thanking Merlin that his twitches weren't acting up, Harry tried to relax as much as he could. Due to his initial panic, Harry didn't realize, but now he remembered what the wolf had told him before; wolves didn't randomly bite people as the Wizarding world believed. On the full moon, sometimes the wolves would feel the need to bite someone in order to repopulate their ranks. That would explain the black flash Harry saw in the wolf's eyes, but he still couldn't help but be afraid. The wolf had also told him that the virus only worked on the young. Was he too old and the virus would reject him? Or were his hormones already in enough disarray due to his adolescence that the virus could easily slip in and take control?

On one hand, Harry didn't want to become a werewolf. Yes, he would be happy that he could be more like Remus and even join his godfather during the full moon. But he didn't want to be pushed out of the Wizarding society and forced into seclusion. On the other hand, Harry didn't want to die. Not like this, anyway. Voldemort put him through all that pain and strife and _goddammit_ if he didn't want the fucking bastard to be the one who ended his life.

Just as he finished the thought, the wolf released his neck. It let out a soft whine and began to lap gently at the wound, no different than it did in its human form when tending to Harry's chafed skin. But it made no difference as Harry's veins themselves seem to catch fire. The pain was nearly rival to being under a Crucio, but this time there was no Voldemort standing over him, pointing his wand with glee, so Harry allowed himself to release a scream.

The pain seemed to last for hours. Harry would've believed it was days, had he not felt the soft fur of the wolf pressing into his skin. And every once in a while, he could feel the wolf would lapping comfortingly at his face with a rough tongue. No one came in no matter how loudly he screamed; probably believing Harry was being eaten alive. The burning sensation in his veins long since disappeared only to be replaced with the harsh feeling in his chest, as if his magic core was being ripped apart and put back together by a blind toddler.

But as the blue light of the moon was slowly replaced with the pale yellow of the rising sun, the pain began to ease off. Harry could feel the wolf, which had fallen asleep beside him, return to man. But he couldn't react in his half dazed state. He was utterly exhausted, but couldn't fall asleep for the life of him. He survived, in the least. A werewolf yes, but most definitely an alive one. He managed to find sleep once his body finally collapsed in exhaustion.

He awoke when the werewolf did. He blinked at the bright sunlight streaming from the slit in the wall, eyes watering. Then he paused and looked around. Everything was clear, defined, as if he had his glasses on. But he knew he didn't because he watched Voldemort snap them easily. A sound to his side had Harry looking over, straight into sleepy blue-grey eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the werewolf clearly for the first time.

The man had to be in either his late twenties or early thirties, though he could be older being a werewolf, as Harry was only going by his appearance. His body, which was mostly shown as the werewolf wore nothing—making Harry's cheek flush a pretty red—was hard and compact; each and every muscle strong and defined. His face was all strong, sharp features; a strong jaw and chin, a sharp slope to his forehead, the tilt of his nose, cheekbones that jutted out attractively across his features. But his eyes were a whole other thing; icy cold, piercing bluish grey orbs, an exotic cut to them with the ends tilting up just so. He had dark brown—almost black—slightly wavy, shoulder-length hair, just as wild as Harry's, though probably not genetically so. Harry looked away, his cheeks burning hot. The werewolf grunted and yawned loudly, his jaw cracking.

"Sorry about that, pup. Last night, I mean. Told you about the urge. Those fucking assholes didn't come get you and now look at what fucking happened." He began to grumble, apparently not caring in the least about his attire. Or lack of thereof.

Harry swallowed. "It's okay."

The wolf ran a hand through his hair, peering at Harry. He sighed. "Dammit, now I have to take you back to the pack with me once I figure out how to get out. _Fuck, _that means Voldemort's going to be pissed, given that you're alive. He's not going to like this at all. We have to get out of here somehow."

"I thought that was your plan in the first place? To get out of here, I mean."

A scowl. "Yeah, but now it's more immediate. Before I could have cared less, but now I have you under my charge." The wolf eyed Harry. "I ain't gonna let you die so soon after being a wolf for the first time. Shit, imagine not ever going through your first change." He shivered. "Bloody hell."

"Does it…hurt?"

The werewolf gaped at him, then laughed. "Does it hurt? Of course it fucking hurts! The first time is going to hurt like a bitch, but it gets easier and less painful. Stop worrying like a little bitch."

Harry scowled and turned away, not wanting the wolf to see him sulk lest he got mocked again. Well, excuse him for asking. It's not like completely rearranging literally everything in your body isn't a scary fucking aspect to consider. Not like he wanted to get bitten anyway, especially not while in the clutches of Voldemort. Even worse, since it was done by someone who he barely knew. Suddenly his head shot up and he whipped around to stare at the werewolf, who tilted his head.

"What?"

"This is probably _so _late but…" Harry bit his lip, brow furrowing. "Who exactly _are _you?"

The werewolf blinked at him, an incredulous expression lighting his features. Then he burst out laughing, making Harry scowl. His laughter lasted for a long time, in which Harry slowly grew angrier and angrier. Finally his temper snapped and he whipped his chains at the still laughing werewolf, effectively cutting him off. Dark green and icy grey clashed as the two glared at each other. The werewolf was the first to break their intense stare, turning slightly to hide the snicker bubbling up his throat.

"You wouldn't be looking at me like that if you knew who I am."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Try me."

The wolf snorted. "Name's Fenrir Greyback, pup, and I highly doubt you're unfamiliar with it."

Blinking, Harry sat back. Yes, he was familiar with the name. There wasn't anyone in the Wizarding World who _didn't _know Greyback's name, and the reputation that followed it. But looking at Greyback now, Harry couldn't help but doubt that this was the man who killed little children for the hell of it. He looked nothing like the feral, insane maniac he was described as. Maybe it was a bit biased of Harry, but at the moment Greyback looked nothing more than a man subjected to the tortures of a madman. Wait…

"Hey, I thought you were allied with Voldemort. Why are you in here?"

Greyback blinked at him, flabbergasted. "I just told you who I am and all you're concerned about is why I'm in here?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm curious."

The werewolf shook his head. "You astound me with every word that comes from your mouth, young one. As to answer your question…yes, a while ago my pack and I were allied with Voldemort." His face darkened. "Then that bastard betrayed the trust I put in him, as little as it was. One of my pack was killed because of that SOB."

Feeling a twinge in his chest at Greyback's expression, Harry carefully eased forward and laid a hand on the werewolf's bare knee. "I'm sorry for your loss, Greyback, but…I mean, it's Voldemort. Shouldn't you have expected something like that? What made you ally with him?"

"Why?" Greyback snorted. "Because he offered us something those damned wizard never would. Equality. We would've been able to live in a society where we weren't ridiculed and feared and hunted. We would've been able to live in a society where we weren't forced to turn innocent children in order to prevent our extinction."

"Oh." Harry looked down. "I'm sorry."

Greyback snorted. "It's not your fault, pup. Wizards are just ignorant. What they don't realize is that the reasons they hide from the Muggles are the exact same they force us to go into hiding for. Yes, they are much stronger than Muggles, but guess what? Wizards don't even make up half of the population of Muggles in the world. The same applies to us werewolves. We're stronger than wizards, but they overwhelm us with numbers alone. They necessarily have no reason to fear us. I mean, there is no sane wolf in the world that would willingly eat a human in any way, shape, or form." His nose scrunched. "Too stringy."

That pulled a chuckle from Harry. "Understandable. So, why haven't any of you tried to, you know, explain that to somebody?"

"Because nobody _will _listen, pup."

Harry looked up into Greyback's eyes, his expression sincere. "I'm listening."

The werewolf gave him a surprisingly soft smile. "And I thank you for that, Harry."

The young raven jolted. That was the first time Greyback had called him by his name. The movement brought him closer to the werewolf and he couldn't help but be reminded of how painfully naked Greyback was. His cheeks heated, embarrassingly enough, but he couldn't bring himself to pull back. Greyback noticed and arched a brow at him.

"Something you want, pup?" When Harry's cheeks only reddened further, the man gave him a lecherous grin that sent a thrill running up his spine.

Greyback leaned towards him and Harry's breath hitched. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but he didn't want it to end. His heart thundered in his chest with anticipation, so loud he was sure Greyback could hear it. But then the lock on their cell door clicked and Harry jerked. His mind cleared and he scrambled away from Greyback just as the door opened.

In swept Voldemort, followed closely by Harry's torturer—when Voldemort wasn't in the mood, that is—Ruldophus Lestrange. Harry shivered uncontrollably when the man's gaze landed on him, a slow smile that promised pain spreading across his face. Voldemort let out a disappointed sigh, catching Harry's attention only to find the Dark Lord staring at him with a frown.

"I had sorely hoped the mutt would kill you. But alas, it would seem that he was familiar enough with your scent to not kill you. No matter, now I can torture you more. Maybe even kill you myself." Voldemort looked up with a thoughtful expression. "I won't use the Killing Curse this time. No, I think I will slowly starve you and when you are at your weakest, I will force you to relive your worst memories as I torture you to death. Sounds good to you?"

Harry held in his fear and anger, choosing to simply glare at Voldemort from his position. He couldn't say the same for Greyback, who shot up with a particularly loud growl.

"He is nothing but a child! Is such things necessary?" He snarled in disgust. "You are sick, Voldemort. Absolutely raving mad."

Voldemort's lip curled and snapped his wand at Greyback with a muttered a body binding spell. "Shut up, mutt. I'll deal with you later." He turned his bloody gaze back to Harry. "For now, you will have your own cell, Harry. A completely pitch black room, with no food, and no one to keep you company."

With a snap of his fingers, Voldemort whirled way. Lestrange ambled forward, waving his wand to release Harry from his chain. Before he could react, Lestrange picked Harry up, throwing the young raven over his shoulder. Harry, of course, struggled.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch! You can't fucking do this to me!" He pounded on Lestrange's back and kicked his legs, hoping to connect with any party of the man's anatomy.

In his ranting, he happened to look up and catch Greyback looking after him with a desperately angry, expression, but unable to do nothing. The look made Harry freeze, looking after the wolf despondently until Lestrange turned and slammed the cell door solidly shut, sliding the lock bolt into place. He couldn't work up the energy to return to his struggles, however, and sat passively on Lestrange's shoulder as he was carried to his new cell.

Once he was thrown inside, Harry huffed out a sigh and checked out his surroundings. In his new cell, he had no chains, but he also had no little window, and the locks on his door were much more extensive. It was completely pitch black in the room, as if Harry had closed his eyes. Which would have been completely fine, before his improved eyesight, in which he couldn't see much in the first place. Now it unnerved him considerably. With nothing to do, and feeling completely exhausted, Harry rolled onto his back and fell asleep.

Alas, he was only able to get a moment of sleep when he was suddenly woke up in pain. His back arched up, his body unconsciously trying to get away from the pain. The sadly familiar pain of a Crucio riddled Harry's body and he could do nothing more but open his mouth in a silent scream, tears of pain rushing down his face. But just as suddenly as the pain started, it ended, and Voldemort's voice washed over him.

"How do you like your new room, Harry? I hope it suits your tastes. That's all I wanted, you may return to your slumber." The man left with a sadistic laugh.

Harry growled, curling into himself in an attempt to lessen the effects of the curse. He was aware of werewolves' ability to negate magic, but painfully came to the realization that it probably didn't apply to newly turned ones. Which was actually helpful to Harry's case; the sooner he could keep his newfound transformation from Voldemort, the better. He'd seen Greyback coming from one of his beatings and it wasn't a pretty sight.

At the thought of the werewolf, Harry let out a sigh. He was finally becoming closer to the man—more than likely because he was now also a werewolf—only just to get pulled away into a different cell. To be tortured further, completely secluded. He hoped Greyback wouldn't also be tortured because of him. He really hoped Greyback would be able to escape and return to his pack. Even if he himself couldn't do the same…

~oOo~

Harry suddenly shot up, eyes wide. He wasn't sure what woke him up, but he was up and alert. Since he couldn't see anyway, he closed his eyes and strained the rest of his senses, trying to identify what caused him to awaken. Then he heard it, a very faint noise, but still recognizable. A howl. But not just any howl. Greyback's howl. Harry's eyes snapped open and an unconscious grin spread across his face. He wasn't sure how he knew it was Greyback's; it was like an innate ability he developed.

A sudden urge to return the howl built up in his chest and he threw his head back, allowing the sound to rip from his throat, long and loud. A pause that lasted long enough to get his heart beating; then a responding howl.

The rest of the night was filled with loud, lonely howls. Harry couldn't explain the feeling, but he knew that it wasn't right that they weren't sharing the cell anymore. He knew that over the time they shared the cell, even though Fenrir denied it, they bonded. Especially after Harry was Turning, though the time together afterwards had been short.

By dawn, Fenrir and Harry had ended their howling and the young raven was fast asleep curled in a corner, a small smile stretching his lips. The door to his cell slowly creaked open and a nastily grinning Ruldophus Lestrange entered silently. He aimed his wand at an unsuspecting Harry and whispered a painful curse that mimicked the feeling of someone slowly ripping off Harry's skin.

He woke with a choked scream, shooting straight into the air before crumpling back to the ground. His skin itself was fine, but the curse made it feel as it was really happening, sending images straight to Harry's head of Lestrange slowly peeling off his skin strip by bloody strip. The spell lasted for thirty minutes, though to Harry it seemed like thirty pain-filled hours. When Lestrange finally released the spelled, Harry curled in on himself, sobbing brokenly. Lestrange curled his lip.

"So weak and petty." He growled, stepping forward to kick Harry in the side, pulling a small shriek from the raven. "I do not see what Voldemort does in you. You are nothing. I do not understand his anxiety over you. It takes almost nothing to reduce you to this…blubbering, pathetic little shit you are now. Voldemort is doing nothing but bothering himself by torturing you like this, drawing out your death. If it was me, I would have killed you immediately in the most painful way I can think of."

By that point, Harry had regained enough energy to slowly lift his head and glare at Lestrange. "Then it's a good thing you're not, right? That's why you're nothing more than a shitty ass lackey whose only use is to wipe the shit off Voldemort's ass—."

Lestrange cut him off with another cure, this time shouted in burning anger instead of whispered in sadistic glee. Harry screamed, his back arching off the ground and his hands scrabbling on the ground. The skin of his fingertips split, allowing his blood to spill out and mix with the dirt. Tears slipped from his closed eyes, trailing into his hairline and down his cheeks to join the mixture of blood and dirt on the ground.

It wasn't until many hours later when Lestrange finally left the cell, leaving behind a broken and bleeding Harry exhausted on the ground. Slowly he rolled away from the pool of blood, sweat, and tears on the ground and curled into his side, gritting his teeth against pain. It was better than a Crucio at least; he would only be left with skin-deep scars instead of long-lasting muscle twitched that not even the most extensive treatment could fully rid him of. And it wasn't like he didn't already have multiple scars littering his body, so what would a few more make a difference of?

If he could've, he would have snorted. It would have made a difference to Ginny. The first time she saw his scars—it was not even a third of the ones he had at the time, mind you—she freaked. Not because what caused the scars. Oh no, Ginerva Weasley was more concerned with that fact that Harry's 'supposed to be perfect' skin was marred. That meant that she couldn't gloat to all her friends that she had Harry's perfect body all to herself. He frowned at the memory. Maybe it was then that he should have realized that she didn't feel the same about him as he did her at the time. But he was too blinded by his own feelings to see that.

Harry, he thought to himself grimly, you are one pathetic piece of shit. Then he closed his eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.

A few hours later a soft, cool touch on his cheek woke him up. He opened his eyes to see the pale face of Draco Malfoy hovering over him, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to wipe the blood from Harry's face as gently as possible with a soft cloth. Seeing Harry awake, Malfoy paused a moment before his eyes flashed and he continued to wipe at Harry's face. The raven licked his lips.

"What are you doing?" He croaked.

Malfoy shot him a glare. "What does it look like I am doing, Potter?"

"Okay, stupid question—" He abruptly stopped, pushing Malfoy away and rolling onto his side to cough up a thick, mucus covered glob of blood.

Wrinkling his nose at the sight, Malfoy nonetheless reached out and gently pulled Harry's face over to wipe the saliva and blood from his chin. Harry watched with warily shining eyes, trying to find even a small clue that hinted to more devious plans of Malfoy's hidden behind the gentleness he was showing. Finding none and too tired to maintain his current position, Harry relaxed into the ground and allowed Malfoy to tend to him.

The slow rhythmic movements lulled Harry into a half-awake state, eyes heavy-lidded and drooping. He was so focused on trying to stay awake that he jumped, startled, when Malfoy spoke.

"Two hours."

He blinked dazedly. "Huh?"

Malfoy scowled, but his movements were still gentle. He was done with Harry's face and was now working on his arms and chest. "Be ready in two hours."

"For what?"

"Why the hell does it matter? Just be ready in two hours."

Harry frowned. "What, is Voldemort going to kill me or something?"

Malfoy growled and stood, dropping the cloth and whipping out his wand. Harry tensed, thinking that Malfoy was going to do the honors himself. Then he groaned and rolled over as Malfoy released a Scourgify on his body. It did its job of ridding Harry of all the dirt, blood, and sweat covering his body, but the magic was harsh on his wounds. He glared at Malfoy.

"Thanks." He spat out.

"You are welcome." Malfoy sneered.

The blonde stooped to grab the cloth from the floor and then swept from the room. Before the door closed, however, Harry could he him mutter something about 'helping stupid fucking Gryffindors who didn't know how to shut the fuck up and accept something'. He blinked and rolled over to face the door as it fully closed with a soft clock. He listened as all the locks were firmly set back in place and reclosed his eyes the ring of the last lock echoed into his cell.

He couldn't explain it, but somehow he could tell that it was night. He wondered if Greyback was going to howl tonight again. After yesterday, he was excited to do it again. But as the time slowly ticked by, a frown slowly stretched his face and he sat up. The frown only deepened as he strained his senses. By now, Greyback would have started howling, if he was going to; it was around the same time he'd done it the day prior. Was Greyback okay? Or was he just not in the mood to do anything? Harry could recall the days when Greyback wanted silence in the room and he was quick to comply as he did not want the werewolf to start yelling at him; a lesson he learned the first time he defied Greyback.

Without his notice, two hours passed. It was nearing early morning and all was silent. This was around the time the guards that used to bother Harry back when he stayed in the cell with Greyback would fall asleep. His head shot up when the locks to his cell door quickly unlocked and someone in a dark robe carrying a bundle of something entered. Harry held his breath and scooted into the furthest corner of his cell from the door. The dark-robed figure looked around for a moment.

"Potter?" A voice whispered. Harry eyes widened.

"Malfoy?"

The figure whipped around, hood falling off with the action, and Harry was able to see Malfoy's distinct features in the light from the hall outside his dorm. The blonde's usually sharp features softened with relief at Harry's voice and Malfoy took a cautious step towards him.

"Potter, come out that corner. I told you, two hours. You should have been ready."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Well, maybe I would have been if _someone _had told me what the hell was going on."

Malfoy sighed. "We can argue about this later, now come on."

Hesitant and a little bit angry, Harry stood and stepped closer to Malfoy. He eyed the bundle in the blonde's arms. "What's that?"

"Here." Malfoy shoved the bundle into his arms and unraveled it, revealing bread, hard cheese, and jerky. "It was all I could get without anyone noticing. The cloak is one of mine, so it will probably be a bit big on you, but warm at least."

Harry blinked, looking up to meet Malfoy's eyes. "This is for me?"

Grey eyes rolled. "No, it is for Merlin. Now hurry up and eat it."

Not needing someone to tell him twice, Harry quickly stuffed his face with the food, but only ate half. The rest he rolled back up in the robe. Malfoy arched a brow.

"For Greyback." Harry explained. Malfoy's other eyebrow joined the first.

"Why him?"

"Because we're going to help him to." Harry said firmly.

Malfoy snorted. "The hell we are. I am not saving that crazy bastard."

Harry frowned. "Fine." He shoved the bundle back into Malfoy's arms and turned away to sit against the wall. Malfoy followed him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm not leaving here unless Greyback is coming with us. He helped me when we shared a cell and I'm not just going to leave without helping him."

Malfoy gaped for a second, before his expression twisted with anger. "Fucking Gryffindor. Urgh! I don't even know why I'm helping you." He threw the bundle at Harry. "Fine, let's get your stupid fucking mutt."

Harry smiled and stood, holding the bundle close. "Thank you, Malfoy."

"Whatever." The blonde stormed from the room and Harry followed.

He had to wait a moment as Malfoy reset the locks, gaping at the complex intricacy the locks presented. Did Voldemort really believe he was so strong as to escape with no wand without a simple lock? The extensive measures he took in order to keep Harry in was flattering, but still a little too much.

When Malfoy was finally done, they quickly sped down the hallway, in the direction of Greyback's cell. The smell of blood hit Harry before they reached the door and his eyes widened as his throat constricted against the stench. A glance at Malfoy revealed the blonde's furrowed brow as the stench too hit him. Simultaneously they both sped up until they reached the door. It took a moment for Malfoy to undo the locks, and when he did they both rushed inside. Only to stop in shock and horror at what they saw.

Greyback was propped up against the wall directly across from the door, blood pooling around him from the untended wounds littering his body. It looked as if someone took a knife and beat him half to death with it. His face was a swollen mess; his lips split and bleeding, a long gash split his right eyebrow, and his jaw looked broken. He was still naked, so Harry could easily see the bruises and lacerations marring his arms, torso, and legs. One of his wrists was swollen and turning purple, probably broken, and the same to one of his ankle. His left leg was bent at the wrong angle, more than likely broken. He didn't react when Harry stumbled forward, landing on his knees.

"Greyback?" The raven whispered, reaching forward with a badly trembling hand to gently touch Greyback's bruised cheek.

The werewolf grunted at the touch and opened his eyes. They were nearly swollen shut and Harry wasn't sure if Greyback could see. His own eyes burned and pricked with tears. He had no doubt that the reason Greyback was in this state was because the werewolf didn't eat him during the full moon like Voldemort hoped he would. Harry licked his lips and tried again.

"Greyback, can you hear me? Don't speak—just nod." A slow, barely perceptible tilt of the head. Harry sighed in relief. "We're going to get you out of here, okay? Just wait, I promise."

He looked up when Malfoy stepped forward, face paler than usual with horror. "Potter, what…?"

"I don't know." Harry stood. "But we have to get him out of here. Now."

Malfoy nodded. "He cannot walk, so we will have to carry him. You think he will make it through?"

"As long as we're careful."

"Of course."


	3. Grimmauld Place

So I'm giving you this early to make up for the late update :D

* * *

Getting Greyback out of the cell, locking said cell, and going down the hall was the relatively easy part. The hard part was getting past the guards just outside the hall and blocking their way out. Because his ankle and leg were both broken, Harry and Malfoy had to half-drag, half-carry Greyback. The poor werewolf was so far gone that he couldn't even feel the pain, worrying Harry to no end. And they managed to seal up his bleeding wounds, to prevent a blood trail and to keep Greyback from bleeding to death, until they could get real medical help. But the problem was that Greyback's limp body dragging across the floor made a considerable amount of noise, enough to surely wake the guards and alert them that something was amiss. Harry and Malfoy were forced to stop just before the hall turned straight into the guards and propped Greyback against the wall, quietly brainstorming ways to get around the guards without accidentally alerting anyone else.

"What if we put silencing and body binding charms on them and run like hell?"

"With Greyback with us?"

Harry bit his lip. "I'm assuming you can't hold a spell long enough to get far away?"

"The time does not matter." Malfoy crossed his arms. "It is the distance that will cause issues. I cannot hold a spell far enough to consider safe and it will be the same for you if you do both spells, even with your insurmountable magic levels."

"Oh." Harry ignored the gibe, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

A moment of silence passed where the two thought. It would have been so much easier if Greyback wasn't a werewolf. Then they could've but a simple charm on him and went on their way. But werewolves were immune to most spells, the only known exception being the Unforgivables. Harry gnawed on his bottom lip. If there only was a way they could somehow use a silencing charm just on the part of Greyback's body that touched the ground, so that the noise wouldn't alert the guards. Or at least silence the surrounding area. Oh!

Harry's head shot up and he grinned at Malfoy. The blonde arched a brow at him.

"Figured something out then, Potter?" Harry nodded excitedly.

"We put a silencing charm on the _floor _under where Greyback's body will drag. That way all that we'll have to do is maintain the spell, keep a steady stream of magic."

Malfoy considered it, his icy grey flicking between the ground, Greyback, and Harry. Then he sighed, digging into his pocket for his wand and handing it to Harry. He rolled his eyes when Harry looked at him with a blank expression.

"I loathe to say it, but you are better suited at these types of spells than I could ever be. It would be better if you did it."

Nodding slowly, Harry took the wand. "Okay. You think you can carry Greyback on your own? I won't be able to concentrate doing both."

"Yeah."

As slim and effeminate as he seemed, Draco Malfoy was by no means weak. Years of not only playing Quidditch, but also enduring Voldemort's sadistic pleasures, left Malfoy with ropes of strong, sinewy muscles lining a lithe body. It took but a bit of strain for him to lift Greyback onto his shoulders and the full dead weight of the werewolf only slowed him a little. A nod at Harry signaled the raven to begin the spell.

Aiming Malfoy's wand at the ground, Harry whispered a quick "Muffliato."

The ground lit up for a moment and Harry looked up and locked eyes with Malfoy. The blond arched a brow and nodded slowly. Keeping the wand aimed at the ground, Harry slowly started to move out of the hall and towards the guards, Malfoy following after him carefully. Greyback's body trailing on the ground made no sound and Harry sighed in relief. Luckily the guards hadn't woken up during their brainstorming, so all Harry had to do was walk in a path clear enough for Malfoy to follow with Greyback on his back.

Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in once they reached the door across the room. Putting his ear against it, he couldn't hear any noise coming from the other side, which meant that hopefully no guards were on the other side. Malfoy made a soft noise, catching his attention.

"The way is clear until we get outside." The blonde mouthed. Harry nodded. "Then there are more guards posted outside."

By that point, it wouldn't matter how loud they were. The Malfoy Manor, as that is where he was, had anti-apparation wards and so anyone trying to reach them had to do so by foot. If they were already outside, then all they had t do was get outside the gates, and therefore the wards, and apparate to another location. Voldemort wouldn't be able to reach them within that time frame.

Making sure the spell was still working, Harry quickly opened the door and crept down the next hall. Every once in a while, Malfoy would make a soft sound, catching Harry's attention and would mouth directions to the raven. Slowly but surely, they exited the dungeons where Harry and Greyback were being kept and out into the Malfoy house. Malfoy assured Harry that no one was patrolling throughout the halls and rooms, something Malfoy Senior adamantly refused to allow within his house, and they continued their trek.

No more problems arose until they reached the door. Harry abruptly froze and bit back a scream as his forehead suddenly exploded in burning pain. Voldemort was near, and he was angry. Harry crumpled to the ground, clutching his head and biting his lip hard enough to bleed so that his scream wouldn't alert anyone to their position. He vaguely heard Malfoy whisper his name and turned to see the blonde gently easing Greyback to the floor. His vision slowly began to go black. The last he saw with his own eyes was Malfoy coming towards him.

Then he was suddenly in a different room, looking down at Wormtail cowering in front of him. He could smell the fear coming off of the small man and took a deep breath, relishing in the pungent stench. It took Harry only but a brief second to realize he was in Voldemort's head, something he hadn't felt in a while. He held down his initial panic, knowing that this time Voldemort didn't purposely pull him in. Things would go very badly if Voldemort figured out Harry was in his head. Very bad. He held his breath and Voldemort stepped forward and rested a pale, long hand on Wormtail's head. Said man whimpered softly but otherwise stayed still.

"Wormtail, my loyal subject." Voldemort hissed.

"Y-yes, my lord?"

Voldemort's hand suddenly tightened on Wormtail's hair and he yanked the mousey man to the ground, brandishing his wand in one swift movement and hitting Wormtail with a Crucio. Harry winced involuntarily, not enough for Voldemort to notice, as he knew how it felt to suddenly be hit with the Unforgivable.

"You've failed me once again! How hard is it to find two scrawny Weasleys and a fuck up of a werewolf?! How am I supposed to finish off the Potter boy without them?! You are fucking up my plans, once again!"

Wormtail only screamed in pain. Voldemort scoffed and released the spell. He slowly stalked back to his seat and sat down with a sweep of his robes, crossing his legs and staring down at Wormtail expectantly. The animagus gasped in deep breaths, slowly crawling to his feet. Against his will, Harry felt a pang for the man. He knew how it felt to be subject to Voldemort's sadistic tortures. He couldn't imagine how it felt to be cowed by it for so many years. And because of it, he couldn't understand why anyone would follow the madman. He watched as Wormtail finally pulled it together.

"My lord, I apologize. Searching for the Weasley twins and Lupin have proved futile, but everyone is actively searching. We're led to believe they're in a building under a Fidelus charm. I'm more than sure the Potter boy knows."

"Hmm." Voldemort tapped his foot in thought. Then he stood. "Acceptable. Let us find out if Potter really does know."

Harry gasped as he was suddenly pulled back into his own mind. It took him a second to gather his scattered thoughts and come back to his senses. Once he did, though, he gasped this time in shock.

Greyback was awake, for one, and had his arms wrapped around Harry. He could hear and feel the werewolf's growl reverberate from a broad chest into his back, making his body vibrate. Harry blinked his eyes opened, realizing upon doing so that Greyback was growling at a surly looking Malfoy who was rubbing the back of his head. Neither noticed Harry was awake.

"Salazar, Greyback. All I was trying to do was wake him up. I wasn't hurting him."

"Bullshit." Greyback rumbled, arms tightening around Harry. Too tight.

"Oi, you're killing me." Harry wriggled uncomfortable.

Two pairs of icy grey eyes, two different shades, looked down at him. He blinked at them, and then grimaced as a trail of blood suddenly slid down the side of his nose from his forehead.

"Dammit." He reached up to wipe the blood away, only Greyback was faster.

The werewolf shot forward to lick the trail off Harry's face, following it to his scar in which Greyback lapped at it gently. Harry scowled and futilely tried to bat Greyback's face from his. The werewolf didn't budge, or even notice, as his focus was on healing Harry's open wound. Malfoy gaped at the two.

"What the hell?"

Harry scowled harder and pushed Greyback's face away. The werewolf growled and Harry returned it, baring his teeth.

"I'm fine. Used to happen all the time."

"Potter, what exactly happened?"

He turned back to Malfoy. "My scar is more than a souvenir from the time Voldemort—." Malfoy flinched and Harry rolled his eyes. "—_Voldemort _tried to kill me. It connects our minds and for whatever reason, I can all of a sudden be sucked into his mind. Usually when he feels a strong emotion, like anger or happiness. I become him, in a sense. It hasn't happened in a while, but I'm fine."

Greyback growled. "You were bleeding."

Harry shrugged. "Just an aftereffect. My scar is what connects us and such powerful magic causes it to get irritated. Sometimes it just gets swollen, sometimes it bleeds. Nothing new."

The werewolf did nothing more than growl and hold Harry tighter. The raven wiggled again with exasperation. Then he blinked and tensed up as his throbbing forehead reminded him of something.

"Oh, shit. We have to go. Like, now." He tried to scramble from Greyback's lap, growling in frustration when he couldn't move.

Malfoy looked at him. "Well, usually I would agree…But you just woke up from some freaking shit and Greyback is moving around after being beaten half to death. I think you both need to rest a bit."

"No!" Harry bit Greyback's arm, jumping from the werewolf's embrace when the arm instinctively jerked away. "We have to go _now. _Voldemort is on the way to my cell, right now."

Greyback cut his hard glare off and stood up, albeit slowly. "What are you talking about?"

Harry growled. "We don't have time! I'll tell you later, now can we please _go?!"_

Malfoy shared a look with Greyback, arching his brow, before nodding slowly. "Okay. If you say you are fine, then I am inclined to believe you."

The trio quickly went for the door. Malfoy halted Harry before the raven could reach for the doorknob, taking back his wand. The blonde did some complicated wand movements before the door clicked open.

"The door is triggered to set off an alarm for anyone who touched the knob. Safety precautions." He explained at Harry's curious look.

A guard was posted a few feet away, thankfully having not notice the door opening. Some guard duty. Malfoy dispatched him quickly with a stunner before waving them on. The blonde had to take the lead once again, now that Greyback was awake and could apparently walk on his own. Harry, however, kept one eye on him just in case the werewolf's legs suddenly gave out or something.

They were almost to the gate, Harry could see the details on the intricate design—though that was probably more due to his newly enhanced sense over everything—when an alarm was suddenly raised. It wasn't a sound alarm, but instead more like a wave of magic suddenly washed over Harry, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The only reason he knew it was the alarm was because Malfoy suddenly cursed and began to walk faster. The only reason why he wasn't running was because he was taking in consideration the injured Greyback, which Harry was thankful for. He couldn't explain, but he felt the need to protect Greyback at all costs in any way possible.

Another alarm sounded, this time more urgent. It would seem that Voldemort found Harry's empty cell then. He grit his teeth and balled his fists as he fought against the waves of anger, definitely not his own, that washed over his body, and the blackness that threatened to take over his vision. Greyback noticed and growled lowly in support.

So focused on not getting sucked into Voldemort's mind, Harry sucked in a sharp gasp as a rough hand suddenly grabbed his arm and jerked him to a stop. He blinked and looked up to see that they were already at the gate and Malfoy had his wand out, again doing complicated wand motions. His attention was taking when Greyback suddenly pulled him into a hard chest and nuzzled his nose into Harry's neck. He blinked.

"Greyback, what are you doing?"

The werewolf grunted. "Dunno. Kinda going on my instincts right now. Feels like the right thing to do."

"Done!" Malfoy shouted triumphantly, cutting off what Harry was about to say.

The gate creaked opened and the trio quickly made their way out. Harry shivered as he passed the wards, feeling the strong magic wash over him. He looked up in time to see the air shiver, a ripple in the shape of a half sphere covering the Manor. Another alarm, no doubt. Harry looked down, at Malfoy, who suddenly looked pensive. A thought hit Harry.

By helping them, Malfoy compromised himself. He couldn't return to the Manor, lest he be instantly killed. The others had to have realized by now that Malfoy wasn't there. Voldemort didn't take too well to traitors and Harry knew as well as Malfoy did that Lucius Malfoy would not stand up against the Dark Lord to save his own son. Harry licked his lips and stepped towards Malfoy.

"Come with us, Malfoy." Malfoy looked up, eyes flashing as he realized that Harry knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Go with you?" He said softly. "I am the son of a Death Eater. Whether I saved you or not will be completely irrelevant in front of the so called 'Light side' and you can't protect both me and Greyback."

Harry's eyes flashed and his face hardened with resolve. "Watch me."

And before anyone could react, he grabbed both Malfoy's and Greyback's arms and apparated away.

~oOo~

Remus Lupin, to say the least, was having a very bad month. Harry was missing, the majority of the Weasleys bar the twins and Hermione Granger were dead, and Remus knew who exactly was behind it all. You Know Who. His wolf growled and he grit his teeth, resisting his more animalistic instincts to run out and find his cub. He would not succumb to his wolf; it was dangerous. He wished it wasn't there. Every morning he woke up cursing Fenrir Greyback for making him this horrible, bloodthirsty creature.

This morning in particular, however, he was too tired to so his usual inner rant of the accursed werewolf. He missed Harry something terrible and the twins were no help. He glanced at the two, who were both pale and tense, and wondered what was going though their minds.

Fred and George watched on grimly as their youngest sibling and only sister was lowered into the ground. Ginny Weasley was the last of eight to be buried, after their mum and dad, and Ron and Hermione.

No one knew the truth of what happened. No one except for the Twins and Remus. The Twins had seen it up close and personal, when Voldemort appeared all of a sudden and took away their family. They felt guilty, because they were inside the house when it happened and therefore were not victimized. It was only bad luck that Bill, Charlie, _and _Percy had all come to visit and wound up caught in the maelstrom.

Remus had found out by default, only hours after Harry and the others were taken. The man had came in, tired and weary, to the sickly sweet smell of Voldemort and a lack of certain people that were supposed to be there. It took Fred and George an hour to calm the werewolf down enough to explain what happened. Remus was mortified and blamed it all on himself for not being there to help, feeling he same guilt eating up the Twins.

It wasn't completely Harry's fault that what happened, happened. He was only a victim, just the same as the others. They weren't sure if everyone would agree with them. people so easily turned against Harry whenever he messed up that they Twins were terrified to find out what the public would do if they found this out. There was no need to involve the Ministry or the Aurors. They planned to go out and find Harry themselves, after everything settled down. Their only hope was that Harry wasn't dead yet.

Fred reached out and grabbed George's had as the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebot, and Tonks made their way towards them. George returned his hard grip with just as much force. They knew what the Minister was going to ask them, and they really weren't in the mood. They'd just attended the funeral of eight people for Merlin's sake. Remus growled low, his eyes flashing golden amber, and he stalked off, looking everything like a predator hunting his prey. He couldn't completely hold back his wolf, not while Harry was missing.

Kingsley swallowed hard but otherwise smiled at the Twins. "Fred, George. It's good to see you two."

George glared. "Could you just get to the point, sir—?"

"We don't mean to be rude but—"

"Today's been a bit hard and—"

"We're not in the mood." Identical scowls spread across their faces and Kingsley nodded understandingly.

"With good reason. I don't mean to be so blatant boys, but…well, as the Head Auror I have to do something and you're the only ones who survived the ordeal. I'm not saying that you have to answer any questions today, but I will have to ask that you come into the Ministry, preferably to the Auror's Department, to be questioned soon."

The twins nodded and Kingsley hesitated. "And if you find out anything about Harry…" He gave them a meaningful look. They glared as he walked away, the grip on each other's hands almost painfully tight.

Fred and George shared a look. They had to find Harry, and soon. 'Cause eventually, someone was going to find out exactly what happened. And it wouldn't be good for anyone.

It wasn't until a full hour later when Remus finally returned to Grimmauld Place. He figured since the place was under a Fidelus that it would be the safest place to go. And if Harry somehow managed to escape before they could find him, then it would probably be the first place he would go. The Twins spent most of their time there, but they had decided to mourn for their family a while longer.

Once Remus opened the door, he beelined straight for the kitchen. This morning he hadn't been able to stomach anything and now, much later in the early evening, he was starving. Remus had unspokenly became the designated chef whenever the Twins showed up—which was most of the time—as neither of them knew how to cook and Kreacher refused to even appear without Harry there yelling and cursing his mouth dry until the reluctant house elf showed up. As is, he was hungry and planned to do nothing more than to eat until they could no more. That is, until he saw who was sitting at the table, muttering darkly about unresponsive elves.

"Harry!" Remus shouted, rushing forward and scooping the raven into his arms. He ignored the way Harry's body was a lot thinner than before—his ribs were starting to poke out again—or the way his muscles twitched.

"Remus!" Harry gasped out, hitting the werewolf on his shoulder. "Cut it out. Can't breathe."

A guttural growl immediately set Remus off, as he was already on edge, and he quickly pulled Harry behind him to bare his teeth at whoever issued the growl. Only to blink in shock at the sight of a half-beaten and tired Fenrir Greyback tense and ready to jump at him. Then his instinct rode over his initial shock and he growled, holding Harry close behind him. Greyback quickly stood, looking every inch as the feral beast he was even with the lacerations and bruises littering his body. The two were on the verge of pouncing each other when Harry intercepted, slipping past Remus to put a restraining hand on Greyback's chest.

"Stop it, you two. Remus, please; Greyback's not a threat. The same to you, Greyback." He growled, much to Remus' surprise, when Greyback didn't back down. "Greyback!"

The werewolf, not taking his eyes off Remus, pulled Harry into his side. "He hurt you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not purposely. Merlin, he's my godfather for shit's sake! Calm down, would you."

Greyback visibly forced himself to relax and let Harry go, returning to his chair. Remus, on the other hand, was not convinced and glared furiously at Greyback.

"Harry, why is Fenrir Greyback with you? Don't you know he's dangerous?"

"Remus…" Harry sighed. "He's no more dangerous to me than you are. So please, calm down. It's been a long day and I would rather just…sit here and just be. Merlin's balls, I feel like passing out where I stand."

It was then that Remus paused and took in the sight of his young cub. Dark circles ringed Harry's eyes that carried just a hint of a haunted shadow with them, his cheeks were gaunt, his skin was much paler than it used to be, he lost a considerable amount of weight, and his muscles kept having spasms at random intervals. Very few bruises littered his body, minus the strange, slightly big purplish red one on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and from what Remus could see there were no cuts on his body. His gaze softened and he bowed his head guiltily.

"Sorry, Harry. Your room is the same as it always is, so you can go straight there. Your…guest, however…"

At that moment, someone cleared their throat and Remus turned towards the sound. Then his eyebrows rose at the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting at the table with his legs crossed, glaring haughtily at him.

"That is plural, Lupin. I will also be staying here, along with Greyback."

Remus turned to Harry, who shrugged. "He's the one who helped us escaped. He can't return to Malfoy Manor, or they'll kill. I kind of forced him to come with us."

"Indeed." Malfoy sneered at Harry, who returned it with a glare.

"Okay." Remus sighed and rubbed his temples where the beginnings of a headache crept up on him. "Usually, I would offer the guest rooms, but this house is old and all the rooms not used on a regular basis by us are dusty and carry creatures of unknown variety. Kreacher could take care of it but…" He glanced helplessly at Harry, who grimaced.

"Kreacher." His grimace turned into a scowl when the elf did not appear. "Kreacher!" This time he growled, ignoring Malfoy's snicker. "DAMMIT KREACHER IF YOU DON'T BRING YOUR FUCKING ASS HERE RIGHT NOW I SWEAR ON MORGANA'S TITS I WILL FUCKING FLOOD THAT LITTLE HELLHOLE YOU LIVE IN AND THROW AS MANY CLOTHES AT YOU AS POSSIBLE—."

A loud pop interrupted him and the little ugly creature squinted up at him with a disdain expression. "Yell any louder, and you'll wake Madam Black…Master."

Harry's eye twitched. "Kreacher, how many times do I have to call you until you respond?"

The elf shrugged. "Kreacher does not like Master Harry. Master Harry is a good for nothing half-blood. Kreacher does not take orders from half blood with happiness."

"I don't care. I own you so do as I fucking say!"

"Yes Master Harry." His tone implied that he was only going to do the same as he usually did, which was either half-assed or not at all.

A sudden malicious grin split Harry's face, surprising Remus. "Kreacher, I can't believe you really acted in such a disrespectful manner in front of Draco Malfoy. Not only is he a pure blood, but he's also a descendent of the Most Noble and Ancient Black House." Harry tsked as Kreacher's eyes widened. "Such a bad elf."

Kreacher's already pale face went lighter until it gained a sickly pallor as his gaze switched between the smirking Harry and Malfoy, who was trying and mostly failing to keep a straight face. "K-kreacher is so sorry, Master Harry. Kreacher will go punish himself now."

That immediately made Harry's smirk drop. "No, Kreacher, that's unnecessary. I just need you to go make two of the guest rooms fit to sleep in. And also prepare dinner."

The anxious elf nodded jerkily. "Yes, Master Harry." with a pop, Kreacher was gone.

Harry relaxed immediately, sinking down into a chair beside Greyback wearily. Remus' wolf howled with the urge to rip Harry from Greyback's side, but he knew that he wouldn't survive long in a fight against the beast of a man. Greyback wanted Harry for a reason, and Remus wanted to find out why, completely forgetting that Harry was tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep. He pulled up a chair and pinned his godson with a look. Harry, catching the look, groaned loudly.

"What is it, Remus?"

"How did you get involved with Greyback?" He began immediately, cutting straight to the chase.

Harry rolled his eyes. "We were locked in a cell together, for Merlin's sake Remus. You're acting like he brainwashed me or something."

Remus shot Greyback a dark glare. For all he knew, that's exactly what the man did. With a snort, Greyback leaned forward and grabbed Harry's chin. Before Remus could react, the werewolf pulled Harry to his chest and lifted his head, baring his neck and the bruise on it for all to see. Harry did nothing more than shift uncomfortably, letting out a small whine as he pushed at Greyback's face. The man ignored him, locking eyes with Remus.

"See this, boy? This is _my _mark." He grinned evilly. "You're precious little Savior is one of us now."

Remus' hurt stopped beating for a moment. No, not Harry.

"Greyback." Harry growled out.

Faster than anyone could see or react to, Harry somehow bit Greyback and slipped from the man's grasp. Greyback growled at him, which Harry returned by baring his teeth.

"That's the second time you've done that in less than an hour, pup."

Harry's eyes flashed dangerously. "Then stop doing things that allow me to bite you."

Greyback pointed a finger at him. "Keep defying me like you are and you'll regret it."

Fortunately, before Harry could retaliate with something that would definitely get him attacked—which meant that Remus would be forced to get involved—Kreacher reappeared with a loud pop. He looked up at Harry, a look of contempt passing his features for a brief moment.

"Master Harry, Kreacher has done as Master Harry asked. The rooms closest to the stairway are ready to use. Kreacher will go make dinner now."

"Thank you, Kreacher." Harry lost his glare and smiled at the elf, shocking him. "Can you wake me up if I fall asleep when dinner's ready?"

Kreacher nodded jerkily. "Of course, Master Harry." The elf disappeared.

Harry, shoulders now slumped with exhaustion, looked around the room. "Well, I guess I'm going to sleep now. Malfoy, Greyback, you guys can follow me to your rooms. Remus…we'll talk later."

The raven turned away and marched from the kitchen. A moment of hesitation, then Malfoy and Greyback hurried after him. Remus sighed and slumped in his chair, closing his eyes shut tightly. He could hear Kreacher banging around in the kitchen, muttering about this and that. Remus couldn't believe Harry was back. He couldn't believe his little cub was now a fucking werewolf. And he'd brought back the most notoriously known werewolf in all Wizarding Britain. Plus a Malfoy.

He wasn't sure how he was going to tell Kingsley, should the Auror suddenly show up at the place.


	4. The Full Moon

Harry, Fenrir, and Draco stayed at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for nearly a month as Fenrir healed—having being beaten right after his transformation made his healing process drastically lower than usual—and wait until the full moon do that the werewolf could finally contact his pack. In fact, the next full moon was in two days. Fenrir was excited; he would be able to finally return to his pack, now that he wasn't restricted by the wards surrounding the Manor. Harry was excited because it was his first transformation—though his eagerness was laced with anger as Remus kept trying to convince him to take Wolfsbane. Said man was surly and depressed because of the up and coming full moon. Draco either didn't see the significance or just flat out didn't care. And the Twins were just happy Harry was back.

He remembered when he saw them the next morning after escaping from the Manor. They were downstairs chatting with Remus when Harry came down. Both Fenrir and Draco were both still sleeping and, in the case of the former, probably wouldn't be coming down for a while. Fred was going on about some new prank invention they were in the middle of creating with a grin, though it looked forced, and George wasn't even trying, instead picking at his food with a depressed air. Remus was trying to stay upbeat, but his smile kept slipping into a frown. Probably because his thoughts kept slipping back to Fenrir sleeping peacefully upstairs. Harry scowled for a moment before slapping on a smile and sliding into a room.

Seeing him, the Twins immediately brightened and it was like he was never gone. Until Draco came downstairs, eyes only half open and his hair sticking up in cute little tufts. He obviously no longer cared about his appearance, as it no longer mattered as much since his father was probably going to disown him for betraying the Dark Lord. The Twins were a bit stiff, until Harry explained what Draco did, and then they were just as happy to see him just as they were Harry. Harry was in the mood to make breakfast, which he had began to do immediately after pulling away from George's smothering, ignoring the protests of the others who claimed he looked too tired.

The smell of bacon woke Fenrir and the werewolf came downstairs with his eyes closed and his nose in the air. The Twins jaws dropped and they scrambled away immediately. Fenrir ignored them, still following his nose until he bumped into Harry. Then he proceeded to whine and repeatedly bump into Harry until the raven growled and snapped at him to sit down and wait like everyone else. Apparently Fenrir channeled his inner child in the mornings and did as Harry said with a pout. The image stuck and no matter how Fenrir tried to redeem himself, the Twins could no longer see him as a dangerous guy who killed people who looked at him wrong.

Harry wasn't sure when he began to call Fenrir and Draco by their first names. One day he woke up and came to the realization that that was what he was doing. Draco did the same, unless he caught himself and in those cases he would proceed to growl and force himself to refer to Harry by his last name, scowling whenever Harry called him Draco. Fenrir, on the other hand, never had that problem as he always called Harry 'pup', and was actually content with Harry calling him by his first name as Harry was a part of his pack. Before, the werewolf used to grunt at him, but Harry quickly put an end to that by screeching at Fenrir for an hour, louder than Sirius' mother ever could, when he was grunted at one too many times. Fenrir knew when to pick his battles and that was one, though he won't ever willingly admit, he wasn't going to fight.

Soon after that, Grimmauld Place fell under a guise of peace. The only one disturbed in the household was Remus, who avoided Fenrir something nasty and was trying to convince Harry to do the same. Harry couldn't understand why his godfather was so hellbent on believing Fenrir was a bad guy—though he kind of was, Harry was well aware of what Fenrir was capable of—and that Harry was going to end just as bad if he kept hanging around the man. Harry did know that Remus was scarred from being turned into a werewolf at such a young age, but he and Fenrir both tried to explain to Remus exactly why he was turned so young. The werewolf was firm on his beliefs, however, and would listen to neither of them, even when Fenrir went Alpha on him. And then there was the issue with the Wolfsbane.

Harry also knew when to pick his battles and when he saw Fenrir's expression when Remus brought Wolfsbane up, he knew that he was going to agree with whatever Fenrir said, no matter what Remus argued. A good thing he did to, because Fenrir looked ready to kill Remus over the potion. He claimed it was poison, slowly killing him, both mind and body. Remus scoffed at him, saying that he took the potion in order to control his wolf. At that, Fenrir completely lost it.

He destroyed nearly half of downstairs trying to get to Remus before Harry had managed to calm him down. It was indirect, however, as Harry had managed to get cut on an errant piece of splintered wood from a broken chair and, upon smelling it, Fenrir immediately calmed down to lick at Harry's wound, no matter how superficial it was. Then he sulked off to his room, where Harry later found and questioned him on his reaction. Fenrir looked at him funny.

"Pup, Wolfsbane is literally poison for us, just like silver. In its purest form as a plant, a single leaf of Wolfsbane can kill a full grown Alpha in under an hour. I'm surprised Lupin hasn't yet died from all the potions he's been taking. No wonder he's so terrified of the full moon; his transformation must be painful. He's not only resisting himself, which is probably doing numbers on his wolf half, but also that potion is killing him. His wolf half must be utterly delirious with pain and sickness. We have to get him off that stuff and get him some help." Fenrir growled, shooting Harry a glare.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Take that shit, pup, and I swear—."

"I won't take it, shit Fenrir." Harry rolled his eyes as Fenrir pulled him into an embrace, ignoring his assurance. "Stop being such a worry wart."

"I'm not a fucking worry wart."

He snorted. "Could've fooled me."

And with the help of the Twins, once Harry explained to them what the potion was doing, they managed to find Remus' supply of Wolfsbane and dispose of all of it before it was time for the man to begin to take them. Once Remus found out, he nearly went on a rampage. It was like watching a man go through withdrawal. It took him week to finally calm down and accept that fact that he wasn't going to get his potion. Nor was Harry going to allow him to lock himself up during the full moon, which after taking a calming draught, he didn't react nearly as badly to. Seeing his resigned acceptance, making his face look rather haggard, hurt Harry's heart but it was needed in order to save the man.

Now it was the day of the full moon and not even Remus' sour mood damper Harry's excitement. He trailed after Fenrir all day—something he sometimes did unconsciously—humming happily. It wasn't until the Twins came by later in the day, before dinner, was Harry distracted. They noticed Fenrir's exasperation and proceed to lure Harry to them with the promise of a game of Exploding Snap and also to show him their latest additions to Weasley's Wizard Wheezys.

"So when you wave your wand like this—see Harry—colorful sticky string will come out. And it won't come off for a whole hour—."

"Except if the person tried to take it off themselves, then another ten minutes will be added on automatically—."

"It took us forever to get this to work, you know."

Harry nodded, trying out the spell himself. "Can you use it for other things?"

Fred arched a brow and leered at him. "Oh? What did you have in mind, Harry?"

Not catching on at first, Harry looked at him strangely. Then realization dawned on his face and his cheeks flamed. "No! I just wanted to know you could use it for decorations or something! Like for a birthday or Christmas!"

George blinked, then nodded slowly. "That doesn't seem like a bad idea—."

"Thanks Harry."

"No problem." Harry smiled at them before returning to his wand-waving as he tried out the spell. Then he caught sight of Fenrir.

The man was walking by, glaring at nothing in particular, which to Harry was no different than usual at first, until he noticed the accompanying scowl twisting the werewolf's lips and the stormy mood surrounding him. He jumped up immediately—Fred and George's attempts to distract him now failing—and trotted after Fenrir, who was on his way upstairs. With his long legs, Fenrir could take two stairs at a time no problem, while Harry's much shorter legs was restricted to one, meaning that Fenrir reached the top long before he did and was ambling off towards his room.

"Fenrir! Wait!"

Fenrir turned and, noticing it was Harry, scowled and kept going. Harry growled and began to run up the stairs, only just managing to catch the door before Fenrir slammed it shut. He slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him, and carefully made his way over to Fenrir. The dark brunette was sitting on his bed, glaring at the wall opposite to him and muttering angrily about something. Harry crept closer and sat beside him on the bed, leaning in so that he could look into Fenrir's face, their shoulders touching.

"Fenrir?"

"What?!" The man growled loudly, pinning Harry under a hard, icy glare.

Harry flinched, but his jaw was set with determination. "What's the matter with you? Why are you walking around here like someone shoved a dead cat up your ass?"

"Shoved a dead cat up my ass?" Fenrir looked at Harry incredulously. "Why would you—no, never mind. I don't want to know."

"So-o?" Harry scooted closer, nearly sitting in Fenrir's lap, which he learned a while ago seemed to annoy the man. "What's the matter?"

For a moment, Fenrir was silent. Harry could see his jaw shift, the muscle rolling under his skin, which usually meant the man was thinking. So he waited patiently, knowing Fenrir would eventually tell him, one way or another. It was so long, however, that he was beginning to zone out in the silence. He jumped when Fenrir spoke, nearly falling to the floor.

"That godfather of yours…why's he so bent on denying his other half?"

Harry blinked and looked up at Fenrir, who looked genuinely confused. "Well…he grew up around no one but bigoted wizards who were completely against anything 'non-Light'. For Remus, being turned so young, meant that it was a lot easier for him to absorb what the others were saying—that he was a monster and shouldn't be allowed in society. To make matters worse, everyone knew he was turned by you, who is only known as a psycho-crazy murder by the wizards. To a young Remus, it must have been hard trying to live with his family who was afraid of him. So…he did everything in his power to repress that side. That habit has…apparently co0ntinued as he grew older." He finished quietly.

"And what about you?"

"Me?"

Fenrir grunted. "Yeah, you grew up with the same bigoted wizards, and yet…"

"Oh." Harry smiled grimly. "Funny story really. I didn't actually grow up here; I was raised by my Muggle aunt and uncle. I told you about them already—I was treated like completely shit by them because I was a wizard.?

"What?" Fenrir grabbed him by the arms and lifted him so that they were face to face. "I thought you were just saying all that crap to get me to talk."

Harry snorted. "I wish it was a lie. I think that I've been able to accept what I am even after spending majority of my life believing that being a wizard made me low dirty scum because I've had people show me just how great being a wizard is. How awesome magic is. Maybe that's all Remus needs. Someone to show him that werewolves aren't mindless killers and are actually so much more."

"Fuck Remus." Fenrir growled, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Who the fuck are the Muggles who hurt you?"

"It doesn't matter." His breath hitched as Fenrir's grip on him tightened. "It doesn't, Fenrir."

Fenrir snarled. "The fuck it doesn't. You were nothing but a kid. Now tell me their names or so help me, Harry—"

"You're hurting me!" Harry growled out, pulling on Fenrir's fingers.

Then he gasped as he was suddenly let go, dropping to the floor. He looked up to see Fenrir standing above him, nostrils flared and jaw clenched. The man was pissed, Harry could tell that much, but he wasn't sure who exactly the anger was directed at. Taking a guess, he slowly stood and stepped closer to Fenrir, wrapping his arms around the werewolf's torso, pressing a cheek on his hard chest. He received no reaction.

"Fenrir? Had it been anyone else, I would tell you in a heartbeat. But they are still my family, no matter what they did to me, and I know your anger. I know what you would have done. What's done is done, and I'd rather not go down memory lane. So—."

He abruptly stopped when a large hand landed on his head. Fenrir didn't say anything, just pressed Harry's head harder into his chest, letting his fingers tangle in Harry's messy hair. In turn, Harry held his breath, choosing to wait until Fenrir was ready to talk. He wouldn't be able to get the man to do so any other way. When Fenrir took a deep breath, he bit his lip and tried to look up. The man's face was hard, but when he looked down at Harry, his eyes were soft.

"I get it, pup. And I…didn't mean to push you like that."

Knowing that was the best apology he was going to get, Harry grinned. "It's fine. The full moon is close so I know you're a bit more grumpy than you usually are. You got mad at me last time too, when I called you Mr. Grumpy pants."

Fenrir growled. "Don't fucking call me that."

Harry grinned up at him cheekily. "Okay Ser Grumps-A-Lot."

The growl Fenrir let out had Harry giggling like a little kid. His laughter came to an abrupt end when Fenrir shifted, grabbing his arm and pulling it close for inspection. The werewolf grunted and began, as he always did, to gently run his tongue over the faint bruises forming on Harry's skin. In Harry's opinion, the bruises weren't even really that bad, they certainly didn't hurt any more, and didn't need Fenrir's attention. But he was knew how meticulous the man was about his physical health, though he wasn't quite sure why, and definitely knew better than to complain about it. Last time he did, he got a scowl and a clip on his ear.

~oOo~

The sun was now set and Harry's initial excitement was now replaced with nervousness as he waited for the moon to appear. He remembered a piece of his conversation with Fenrir from so long ago. Merlin, an entire month ago.

_"…I ain't gonna let you die so soon after being a wolf for the first time. Shit, imagine not ever going through your first change. Bloody hell."_

_"Does it…hurt?"_

_A laugh. "Does it hurt? Of course it fucking hurts! The first time is going to hurt like a bitch, but it gets easier and less painful. Stop worrying like a little bitch."_

Harry shivered as he looked out the window. After all he went through, taking pain wasn't much for him, but that didn't mean he wanted to have to feel it. He spent majority of his life in pain; now, he was sick of it all. At least this time, this pain, had good results. He would be a werewolf, for the very first time.

He looked up from his position, curled in a comfy armchair beside the window, when he heard light footsteps approach. At first he thought it was Draco, but he was no less surprised to see that it was Fenrir. The man was impossibly quiet for his size, an apparent trait in werewolves, it would seem, as Remus was the same. Fenrir stopped in front of him, hand held out; his expression was impassive, cold even, but his eyes were swirling in excitement.

"Up, pup." He grunted. "Time to go out. Moon's about to rise."

Only hesitating for less than a second, Harry grabbed Fenrir's hand and allowed the man to lift him from his seat. The two headed for the kitchen, and from there the back door and outside. The kitchen was where they found Remus, hunched over himself as he stared, his eyes a bit haunted, out the window. Draco was also in there, staring at Remus as he chewed on an apple. Fenrir sighed and hauled Remus from his chair with hardly a grunt.

"Come on, you pitiful little shit. It's only gonna hurt more if the moon doesn't hit you directly." He snorted at Remus' surprised expression. "Didn't know that didja? Kept yourself locked up in some cage, hidden from the moon, hurting yourself more without even realizing it. You're ridiculous." He then proceeded to drag Remus outside and throw him on the ground a few meters away.

Harry followed them at a slower pace, a small grin now gracing his lips. To him, it seemed as if Fenrir had gone just a bit lighter on his scorn towards Remus. Which meant that the man had went and took Harry's advice. That made Harry happy to learn that Fenrir was going to at least give Remus a chance, and there was an evident bounce in his step when he approached the two. Fenrir shot him a questioning look, which he ignored in turn for plopping down next to Remus, close enough that their shoulders pressed together. He also ignored the scathing glare Fenrir gave him.

The look Remus gave him was wretched. "It's my first time without Wolfsbane since my first change."

"I know."

"I'm scared, Harry."

"I know."

"What if I kill someone?"

Harry turned to face Remus. "You won't. It's not like that, Remus, not at all. Your wolf only acts the way he does because he's alone. If you accepted him into yourself, accept the fact that he is _you, _then everything is so much better. The way humans portray us is fucked up and only taken from what they seen from rogue wolves. In that sense, we are the same. There are good wolves and bad wolves, just as there are good humans and bad humans."

"But Harry…"

"Don't worry, Remus. It'll be fine, I'm sure. I mean, I was locked in a cell with Fenrir when he changed, and I'm completely fine."

Remus growled, his pitiable expression shifting to one of anger. "No, you're a werewolf now."

"And that's not better than me being dead?" Harry stood and glared down at his godfather, his mood switching easily with the approaching transformation. "Because that's what I'd be if Fenrir didn't change me. Not because he would've eaten me or something stupid like that, but because Voldemort would have killed me. Is that what you want, Remus?"

He huffed away before Remus could respond. Fenrir had been ignoring them, instead crouching on the ground and staring expectantly up at the darkening sky. Harry joined him, curling a bit into his side. He was expecting the man to push him away and was pleasantly surprised when Fenrir only shifted to accommodate Harry's weight leaning on him.

"That sounded like it didn't go too well."

"I didn't know you were listening."

A shrug. "I wasn't."

Harry chuckled. Then Fenrir tensed, causing him to look up. His eyes widened as the brilliance of the moon peeked over the horizon. When the first moon beam hit the ground, Harry could feel the change within himself. He could feel the soul of his wolf rising to meet and merge with his own. It was a wonderful feeling and Harry gasped in delight. He heard Fenrir's own pleased noise, and another—more surprised one—coming from behind him. But then the pain came.

It was only natural, as shifting bones, muscles and organs should be, and Harry knew it was coming but it was unexpected after the feeling from merging his soul with his wolf's. His gasp this time was painful and cut short as he fell forward on hands and knees; his skin shifting and growing darker with coarse hair. He could feel Fenrir's heavy weight pushing against his side, a silent sign of support even as the man himself went through similar pangs. There was a pained whine, behind him, louder than even his own. He had no time to react, as another spark of blinding pain passed through him.

His fingers looked twisted and gruesome as he dug them into the soft dirt in pain. His spine cracked and popped and suddenly he jacked up, his back arching into the air at an inhuman angle. His face morphed, nose and mouth elongating into a muzzle. He could feel each and every one of his organs shift, all his bones crack and change, his skin stretching and fur growing.

The process was extremely painful and yet Harry didn't, couldn't, make another sound. He took all the pain as part of his punishment. Even if he no longer liked them, he still killed many people—a family. His family, his friends, once upon a time. Maybe one day he would grow to not care anymore—he was already half way there—but for now he felt as if the pain was his atonement. It soothed his raging heart. His back jack-knifed again and this time he let out a growl, low and inhuman. When he relaxed again, everything was different.

Black fur, soft and sleek, covered his body. He was smaller, much smaller than before, and his body would have been considered lithe if he weren't so malnourished. His eyes were the same though, still a vibrant green. His legs were long, his body narrow, his muscles smooth—the physique of a runner. Long sharp teeth, razor sharp nails, and a tail completed his new physical repertoire.

A rough tongue licked his muzzle, causing him to look up. When he saw a dark grey wolf—Fenrir—towering over him, he realized that he was lying in the dirt and immediately jumped into a standing position. Only for his knees to buckle and he wobbled to the side. Fenrir caught him before he hit the ground, nosing him in the side until he could stand on his own without his legs shaking. He looked up at Fenrir, wanting to scowl when he realized the man was still towering over him. Then a feeling of elation went through him—he was a wolf! The pain wasn't even as bad as he thought it would be and it was completely worth it.

Then a rough whine behind him cut of his happiness. Remus! He carefully turned around and trotted over to the man-turned-wolf. Remus' fur was a soft, sandy brown, the same as his hair when in his human form. Harry marveled at the huge form of his godfather—he was only able to see him from distances, never so close. He wasn't quite as big as Fenrir, but Harry was sure that if Remus stood, the man would also tower over him.

He leaned forward to nudge Remus with his nose, letting out a soft whine of his own. Remus didn't move, just eyed him. Doing it again the same way got no reaction. Harry did it again, harder and with a growl, and finally got a reaction. So fast Harry couldn't react in time, Remus shot forward with a snarl and bit Harry. He whined and jerked away from Remus, dancing back. Without realizing what he was doing, he sent out a distressed sound with his mind:

_"Fenrir!"_

Reacting immediately to Harry's call, Fenrir rushed forward with his own snarl, his more deeper and menacing, and clamped his teeth on the back of Remus' neck. He was much larger than Remus, but after spending so long in a cell with the bare minimum about of food to survive left him weaker than he usually would be. Remus let out a growl and bucked up, trying to dislodge Fenrir's hold. Harry danced in place, not knowing what to do.

Fenrir looked up, straight at Harry. The raven immediately stopped fidgeting when he met icy blues eyes. There was nothing but cool determination in Fenrir's gaze, stamping down Harry's initial panic.

_"Pup. House. Now."_

Harry couldn't disobey the orders even if he wanted to. He immediately turned tail and bolted for the house. It was fortunate that, so immersed in his thoughts, he forgot the close the door. As is, he zoomed in and nearly crashed into a counter. There was a snicker and his head shot up as his hackles automatically rose. Then he relaxed as he recognized the scent before he even recognized the face. Draco. The blonde was sitting in the chain Remus had vacated not but a few minutes ago. Harry assumed he was watching their transformations. Made him wonder how it looked to someone not going through it themselves.

He slowly trotted over to Draco, not wanting to startle the blonde, and plopped down on his bum beside the chair. Draco looked down at him with an arched brow, the remnants of his laughter earlier now showing on his face with a small curve of his lips. Harry scooted a bit closer and bumped his head against Draco's hand. The blonde understood what he wanted and he began to rub his hand through Harry's ruff, his expression thoughtful. He looked out the window, at the brawling wolves.

"I wonder who will win. They are fighting due to Lupin's reluctance, I presume?"

Harry's tongue lolled out in a wolfish grin as his head jerked forward in a nodded. Draco, not noticing the movement as he was still focused on the ongoing fight—something Harry did not nor did he want to see—continued to speak.

"Greyback's going to win, I am sure. He is one vicious fuck." He looked down when Harry nipped on his hand. "Well, what do you expect me to believe, Harry? He was nearly dead when we found him and not but a month later he is completely healed—fighting even."

Unable to explain, Harry simply glared at him. Draco rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"It is not like I believe those preposterous rumors about him. Not after what I have seen this past month. And I think I might just be digging a deeper hole for myself, aren't I?"

A single nod answered his question, the movement somehow dangerous. Draco huffed, turning his gaze back to the fight outside.

"You do not have to be so prissy about it. What is going on between you and Greyback anyway? Half the time the two of you are yelling at each other and the other half you are following him around while he ignores you and—oh, look. Greyback seems to have won."

Harry's ears perked up and he slipped from under Draco's hand to trot for the door. He stopped immediately, seeing Fenrir towering triumphantly over a slumped over and panting Remus. Then his legs moved on their own accord and he was across the yard, stooping down to sniff over Remus. He whined gently and began to lap at his godfather's wounds, ignoring the grumbling and shifting. They were superficial, but long. Fenrir really did a number on him. Harry huffed at said man when Fenrir tried to nudge him away. Fenrir responded by nipping at his ear.

"_He'll be fine. If you flutter over him like a mother hen, it'll disgrace not only him, but me."_

_"He's hurt—."_

_"By his own right. Leave him be, pup."_

With one more whine, Harry backed off of Remus. The sand-colored wolf relaxed in the dirt, resting his head on his paws and closing his eyes. Fenrir nosed Harry until the raven backed a couple of steps further. Then he turned away and sat down. Harry, now curious, turned his attention from Remus to Fenrir and joined the man. There was a moment of silence and then—

"Awooooooooo!"

A long, continuous howl. It made Harry jump. The only time he heard a howl was from afar, and now being right beside the howling Fenrir made him realize just exactly how loud a howl was. He was going to join, until some deep instinctual urge from within him prevented him from doing so. It was the Alpha's Call. Fenrir was howling for the rest of his pack, beckoning them to join him. So Harry sat and waited until Fenrir was done. And as he waited, he thought. By the time Fenrir finished, he was panicking. 

_"Fenrir, how are they going to find number twelve? It's under a Fidelus charm!"_

The dark grey wolf snorted. "_They'll find it. Don't worry. Depending on where they're at, they'll be here later tonight or early tomorrow morning. For now, let's go inside." _He grunted disapprovingly._ "No forest to hunt in."_

Harry followed dutifully as Fenrir urged Remus up and made his way into the house. "_When the rest of the pack joins us, we'll be going to—…where are we going?"_

Fenrir glanced back at him. "_Our old place has been compromised, so I'm sure the pack has found a place. If not, then they've been on the move—camping out at night in clear areas to sleep. Should that be the case, then it'll be up to me to find us somewhere to live." _

_"…Okay…"_

~oOo~

The pack didn't come at any time that night. Nor were they there in the morning when Harry woke up. He even went as far as to check outside to see if they were stuck by the charm. It was clear.

Fenrir was on edge. Though he didn't say it, he was worried about his pack. Harry could see it in the tension of his shoulders, the way he paced through the halls. And he didn't know what to do. He wanted to help Fenrir, but knew that the man wouldn't accept it. Besides, he didn't even know how to help. So he cooked instead.

It became natural for him to wake up before everyone else and begin to make breakfast that no one questioned it. Not even when he kept going, making more breakfast food than necessary, and from there moving on to desserts. That's when everyone—save Fenrir, who was immersed in his own thoughts—began to question Harry's motives.

"No, nothing. I just—I need something to do. Fenrir's worrying me and I can't do anything about it…but this."

When it was Remus, the man pursed his lips and walked away. When it was Draco, the blonde pinned Harry with a glare and put his hands on his hips.

"Well, you're going to waste all the food cooking everything. No one can eat all of this, Harry! If you need something to do, come flying with me. I know you still have your Firebolt, and your old Nimbus 2000."

Harry hesitated, then nodded. He dusted his hands off on his apron before taking it off and hanging it on the hook beside the stove. "I do still have both. Let's go fly."

A whole hour passed without Harry's notice. Flying felt great and his worries eased away. It was so long since he flew that it was like a breath of fresh air. He and Draco raced, or challenged each other to do the most dangerous maneuvers. The hour passed and when he felt an interruption in the wards was when he finally blinked and remembered where he was. He and Draco shared a look and landed immediately. They both took off towards the front door, meeting Remus on the way.

"It's not the Twins, they would've came through the Floo. Were you expecting anyone, Remus?"

The werewolf shook his head. He looked miserable, with dark circles around his eyes and his skin pale and covered in thin scratches and bites. But he definitely looked better than how he usually looked after a transformation. Harry was sure it was because he didn't take that filthy poison, Wolfsbane.

Fenrir walked up, feigning nonchalance with his hands in his pockets and his eyebrow arched. "No one gonna get that?"

Just then the doorbell rang. Harry cut off his glare on Fenrir to answer it. A man stood there, with a friendly grin. He was tall, maybe Remus' height, but broader in the shoulders and chest, like Fenrir. His eyes were warm brown, and his hair was short and light, sun-bleached brown. There were laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. He was also a werewolf, as far as Harry could tell.

"Hello. Um, I'm Lance—."

"Where're the others?" Harry leaned out, looking around.

Lance blinked. "Excuse me?"

Harry snorted, ignoring him in favor of looking back inside. "You gotta be shitting be, Fenrir! There's only one other person in your pack?"

Fenrir grunted and Harry moved over to let the man access to look out the door. He ignored Lance's gaping face, also looking around. When he noted the lack of pack members, he pinned Lance with a glare.

"Where's everyone else?"

"Somewhere safe." Lance stopped gaping, but appeared otherwise unaffected by Fenrir's glare. "What the hell, Fenrir?"

"Get inside. I'll explain."


End file.
